


The Steps Were Wet With Tears (Karasuno 7 Mysteries)

by athena_crikey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Comedy, Drama, Gen, Japanese Culture, M/M, Only kagehina if you squint, Volleyball Dorks & Nerds, ghost story, high school 7 mysteries, the club is full of morons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athena_crikey/pseuds/athena_crikey
Summary: Hinata wipes drizzle off his cheek, his hair beginning to get damp. “…So?”“So there must really be a ghost!” Nishinoya pushes to the front of the group. “How else could the stairs get wet but by some dark beauty’s ghostly tears, shed alone at night in the club building as she agonizes over her final, failed grades? Oh how well I understand you, my poor, lovely, academically challenged–”“Are you even listening to yourself?” shouts Daichi from the back of the group. “Hurry up and go inside, it’s raining.”OR: The volleyball club investigates a ghost sighting.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 5
Kudos: 74





	The Steps Were Wet With Tears (Karasuno 7 Mysteries)

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the Haikyuu Drama CD [The Story of Puddinghead](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZtwJ8djSD8E).

Karasuno is a regular run-of-the-mill high school, and like every regular run-of-the-mill high school, it has its seven mysteries. The shadow on the floor outside the principal’s office that looks like a hanged man, the wall in the music room that turns blood red before school tragedies, the disappearing second-floor boy’s bathroom. It’s all part of the rich high school tradition, sometimes funny, sometimes thrilling. 

And sometimes, on dark nights alone at school, terrifying.

  
***

It starts, unsurprisingly, with rumours:

“Did you hear the girl crying in the clubroom building?” ask the baseball boys, sweaty and dusty between practice.

“The stairs are always wet – they say it’s a girl’s tears,” say the tennis girls, chatting over their phones. 

“I heard a team’s manager hanged herself in a clubroom three years ago.” The drama club students discuss it over a script session. 

“Now she cries every day after school, until her tears flood the stairs,” a source tells the newspaper club, the reporter taking notes with a mechanical pencil. 

And of course, once it’s in the paper, the whole school knows about it.

  
***

“They say she has long hair like Sadako, and crawls around on the floor, all _woooo, ahhh!_ ” says Hinata, acting out clawing motions.

It’s afternoon practice in the gym, the fall air cool and crisp against sweaty skin. They’re on break right now, standing around chatting and guzzling water to keep hydrated. Outside it’s raining again; it’s been a wet fall, the school grounds churned-up and muddy. The court, as always though, is pristine. 

“I heard she hanged herself because her grades were so bad she had to quit her club. Now she strangles other students who fail their classes,” says Yamaguchi. 

Hinata blinks, stares. “Whoa, no way!”

Suga smiles. “If that were true, wouldn’t she want to strangle people who were good at school?” 

“No way – she doesn’t want to be alone in her guilt. She’s assembling a squad of fellow-failures,” interjects Tanaka, arms crossed, eyes closed, nodding seriously. 

“The Suicide Squad?” suggests Nishinoya, grinning. Tanaka opens his eyes and gives him a thumbs up (“Nice, Noya-san!”).

Asahi shivers. “Uwaa, how frightening. Can’t we talk about something less scary?”

Nishinoya slaps him on the shoulder. “Cheer up, Asahi-san. You’re not failing any of your classes. It’s Shouyou and Kageyama who have to be worried.”

“Really?” Hinata frowns thoughtfully. “The fortune I got at the shrine over the summer said I would be compatible with spirits. I kept it in my wallet for luck.”

Daichi glances at him. “Compatible with spirits? That’s a strange thing for a fortune to say.”

Hinata trots over to his bag and pulls out his wallet, producing the folded piece of paper and bringing it over. “Here, see!”

_Compatibility with spirited people is indicated._

“Compatible with spirits!” reads Hinata.

Tsukishima snorts. “This says _spirited people_. Haven’t you learned to read yet?”

“Spirited can also mean high energy, or enthusiastic, Hinata,” explains Suga kindly. “People like yourself, or Nishinoya.”

Hinata grins, turning to the libero. “Waaa, Noya-san!”

“Shouyou!” They double high-five. 

“So the ghost’s still going to strangle you,” says Kageyama blandly, looking at Hinata.

“No – she’s going to strangle _you_ Kageyama!” the middle blocker points dramatically at the setter. “You’re failing English!”

“And you’re failing Science,” replies Kageyama. “She’s going to come up behind you when you’re changing and choke you.” He holds his hands out, miming it. 

“Really, can we talk about something else?” asks Asahi, nervously. He shifts from side to side, hands twitching. 

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” says Daichi firmly. “It’s nothing but over-active imaginations. Time to get back to practice.”

They put their water bottles down and return to the court. As they do, Asahi takes one last glance out the barred window. At the club building, standing cold and lonely by the school perimeter.

  
***

It’s late. The sun set a while ago, the rain lightening up but still pattering on the damp ground. Puddles shine a dirty yellow in the outdoor lights, the trees casting long, shivering shadows. Somewhere nearby a door hasn’t been closed properly and the wind is thumping it: a low, dull echoing sound.

“’S kinda creepy,” says Hinata as they pull on their outdoor shoes and cross the grounds to the club building. 

“I-it’s just your imagination,” stammers Asahi, keeping in close with the rest of the group. 

“But _is_ it?” asks Tanaka juicily. “Or is it something occult? Something supernatural? Something –”

Daichi smacks the back of his head. “Enough. It’s too late for ghost stories. Get changed and go home.”

They come to the bottom of the stairs. At the front of the group, Yamaguchi stops. “Hey,” he says, voice curious. 

“W-what?” asks Asahi.

“Is it the stairs? Are they wet? With _tears?_ ” asks Hinata, eagerly.

“No,” says Yamaguchi slowly. “They’re not wet at all.”

Kageyama snorts. “So what’s the big deal?

“Well, it’s raining,” points out Yamaguchi. “If they’re wet, the easy explanation is rain, isn’t it? But there’s an overhang; they don’t get wet in the rain.”

Hinata wipes drizzle off his cheek, his hair beginning to get damp. “…So?”

“So there must really be a ghost!” Nishinoya pushes to the front of the group. “How else could the stairs get wet but by some dark beauty’s ghostly tears, shed alone at night in the club building as she agonizes over her final, failed grades? Oh how well I understand you, my poor, lovely, academically challenged–”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” shouts Daichi from the back of the group. “Hurry up and go inside, it’s raining.”

Ennoshita chides Nishinoya along, and they climb the stairs, entering the club room and taking off their dirty shoes in the linoleum entranceway before stepping up onto the tatami. They get changed with the usual amount of joking and rough-housing, then scramble out into the rain to go home. 

No one notices the fact that, the next morning when they come in again, the linoleum entranceway has been washed clean.

  
***

“Whaddya really think, Kageyama?” asks Hinata as they eat lunch, Hinata trying (and failing) to balance a pencil on his nose.

The setter takes a bite of his yakisoba-pan, watching emotionlessly as the pencil falls off and rolls under Hinata’s desk. “About what?”

“The ghost, of course!”

“Never seen it.”

Hinata receives his pencil. “I know _that_. I haven’t seen it either. _Or_ the wet stairs. But a lot of people have. Seen the stairs, at least.” 

Kageyama shrugs and takes another bite. “Then someone’s probably washing them.”

“At night? In the dark? Make an effort, Kageyama-kun.” He waggles the pencil at Kageyama. 

“Well what do you think, then?”

“Obviously a ghost,” replies Hinata, voice certain. “What else could it be? And one of these days when you’re alone in the club room, it’s going to come up behind you, all _wooo_ , and grab you, and –”

“And then I’ll punch it in the face,” replies Kageyama blandly.

Hinata shakes his head. “Oh, Kageyama. So naïve. You can’t hurt ghosts. They can only hurt you.”

“That’s a stupid rule.”

“It’s how it works.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“Is not – _hey_ , that’s my bread, don’t eat it, you bastard!”

  
***

“Na, Ryuu.” Nishinoya leans back over his chair, head tilted backwards to look up at Tanaka, seated behind him doodling on his desk.

Tanaka looks up. “Yeah?”

“I heard someone else saw the wet stairs last night.” Nishinoya straightens, swivels around, and straddles his chair. He rests his elbows on the back, feet tapping on the floor. 

“Whoa, really? But they were dry when we went home.”

Nishinoya nods. “Definitely. We’re usually one of the last clubs to leave, right?”

“Right. The outdoor teams usually end early in the rain, and a lot of the indoor clubs only stay for an hour or two anyway.”

“Which means…”

Tanaka stares at the libero, face scrunched up with thought. “Which means…?”

“Somehow, the stairs are getting wet. And now, we have the perfect opportunity to scare the shit out of our kouhai!”

Tanaka’s face splits into a grin. “You’re brilliant, Noya-san!”

“Thanks Ryuu!”

  
***

“No way.” Tsukishima crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at the two second-years with a flat face, his eyes dull.

“I think it’ll be fun!” declares Hinata, grinning. “I’m in!”

“I’m not interested in what morons decide to do in their free time,” replies Tsukishima. “I’m not staying late at school to investigate a fake ghost story.”

“How do you know it’s fake?” growls Tanaka, face dark.

Tsukishima stares back at him. “Because ghosts aren’t real.”

“What about shrine gods? And Zashiki-warashi? And hannya? And… and _Sadako_?” demands Tanaka.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “Please, senpai. None of those are real.”

“Infidel! You’re turning your back on fundamentals of our society, Tsukishima! Shouyou, don’t listen to him!” Nishinoya claps his hands over Hinata’s ears. 

Tanaka glares, pointing ominously. “You’ll get what’s coming to you if you don’t stay, Tsukishima. Your toenails will grow in and your teeth will turn black and _all your idol merchandise will get mouldy._ ”

“I don’t have any idol merchandise.”

Tanaka gives him a knowing look. “Sure, sure.”

“Sure, sure,” says Nishinoya.

“Sure, sure,” pipes up Hinata. 

“Sure,” drones Kageyama, disinterested, when Hinata elbows him. 

“Look, you bastards,” starts Tsukishima; Yamaguchi puts a hand on his arm. 

“Tsukki. We don’t have to stay. But maybe it would be fun. You know. You could prove them wrong.” He smiles. 

Tsukishima looks from Yamaguchi to Tanaka and Nishinoya, both fired up. “We’ll see,” he says. “I’m not staying if it’s a long practice.”

  
***

It’s raining again, mud tracked up to the shoe lockers outside the gym, although never over the sacred threshold. In the twilight the rain makes the plants look greener, water beading on fat hydrangea leaves and thin iris blades. In the distance the baseball team and the track-and-field team run around on the dirt field, until it’s nothing but a mud pit.

Inside, the volleyball team practices hard. The Prefectural Qualifiers are coming up, and they need to be ready. But when there’s a distant roll of thunder, Coach has them break off. 

“We’ll quit here for today. Remember to practice your visualisations overnight and eat a decent meal!”

“ _Ossu_ ,” they shout, and then start to clear away the equipment and clean the gym. After that, it’s just a matter of hurrying to the club room and getting changed into their uniforms. The first and second years take their time, and the third years finish first. With homework to do, they leave, Daichi giving the underclassmen a slow, burning look. “Behave,” he says ominously; then the door clicks shut behind him. 

Only once the upperclassmen are gone do the others finish dressing and put on their outdoor shoes, the entryway a muddy mess. “We’ll wait on the first floor under the stairs,” proclaims Tanaka. They file out and hurry down to the shadowy first floor, skulking by the drama club’s room. 

The wind is howling in the dark; in the distance a tarp flaps sharply, the sound like meaty slaps. A bicycle’s wheel is turning squeakily in the bike lockers; a crow hidden away in some tree caws. The rain continues, obstructing their view. Occasionally someone comes by, either to the first or second floor rooms, fetching something or changing their clothes and departing. The rain is cording down now and it’s not possible to make out their faces; everyone looks like grey, wet shadows. 

“Is this such a good idea?” asks Hinata softly.

“Getting cold feet now?” drawls Tsukishima from the back of the group; he’s leaning up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Does that mean we can go home?”

“No one’s going home until we solve the mystery of the wet staircase,” hisses Tanaka. “Grow a pair, already.”

Hinata shivers; Kageyama glances at him. “Cold?”

“Nuh-uh. Just kind of creeped out.” He rubs his arms, the black serge of his gakuran slightly damp from rain blowing in under the cover of the walkway. 

“Ghosts aren’t real,” says Kageyama stiffly. Subtly, he takes a step closer to the middle blocker, his arm bumping against Hinata’s. Hinata doesn’t push him away. 

Tsukishima snorts. “Oho, listen to the King. Being so brave for his poor scared little subject.”

Yamaguchi laughs; the others roll their eyes. 

Upstairs, a door creaks. They wait for the footsteps, for whoever it is to come down. But there’s no sound of footsteps, no patter of shoes on the walkway. 

And then, quiet, so quiet it’s barely audible above the wind and the rain, is a gurgle of water. 

“What’s that?”

“What?

“That, that,” hisses Hinata. They all listen. The sound of water is gone, but the door creaks again and now there’s a quiet, rustling sound. It’s like cloth dragging over the floor, like a dress rustling, like stocking feet shuffling over the metal walkway. 

Like someone dragging themselves forward. 

They all turn to stare at each other, eyes wide. Slowly the sound moves down the walkway above them, until it’s directly over their heads. 

_Swish. Swish. Swish._

“L-look!” Tanaka points a wavering hand at the stairs. The steps are metal pieces affixed to the side without backs, so that from underneath they can see through the stairs to the dark night beyond. 

Water is beginning to trickle down from the top stairs. Just drops at first, then trickles, then a torrent. It washes down, down, down, pouring over the stairs, soaking them. 

And then there’s a quiet, satisfied sound. An unearthly song, the sound of an unknown tune being hummed softly, breathlessly. 

“ _It’s here_ ,” hisses Nishinoya, holding onto Tanaka, who is in turn holding onto the libero. Hinata and Kageyama back into each other, hands finding each other in the dark. Yamaguchi shuffles up next to Tsukishima, who stands still, arms still crossed. 

The shuffling continues overhead, and more water pours down.

“ _She’s crying_ ,” whispers Hinata, shocked. “ _It’s real! It’s really real and_ –”

“Shut up,” hisses Kageyama, tightening his hand. 

The shuffling reaches the end of the walk way. Then, slowly, inexorably, the sound moves.

“ _She’s coming down the stairs!_ ” Nishinoya and Tanaka whimper simultaneously, staring in horror. 

“Oh shit, oh shit!”

“What do we do? Kageyama!” Hinata makes to break away but Kageyama holds him firmly. He’s staring at the steps, unmoving. 

“I hear something else,” he says slowly. 

“No time for that – we’ve got to run. You’re failing English – she’ll grab you and choke you and then you’ll haunt the club room forever!” Hinata pulls at him, but Kageyama holds him steady.

The swishing comes down slowly, heavily. Step by step. _Swish. Swish._

And then as they stare, horrified, breathless, the sound of cloth against metal becomes the sound of a broom sweeping. White shoes descend softly, then pale skin, then a skirt.

“AH!” shouts Hinata, pointing.

The ghost, wearing earbuds and holding a broom, turns to look at them. “Hm?” says Yachi, blinking.

“AH!” shout all six boys. Kageyama shoves Hinata away from him (“Get off, dumbass).

Yachi pulls out an earbud; upbeat JPop streams out into the cold, rainy night. “Is there something?” she asks, confused.

“No,” replies Tsukishima, tone pregnant with laughter. “I don’t think so.”

  
***

“So all along, it was Yachi.” Asahi breathes a sign of relief.

“Turns out she was washing out the entryway every night after practice, then sweeping the water out,” says Hinata perkily. “She’s so dedicated!”

“Don’t say that like you knew all along,” grumbles Kageyama. “You were terrified.”

Hinata looks over at him, eyes shining. “So were you! You grabbed my hand like a little girl!”

“You grabbed _my_ hand!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Maa, maa,” says Asahi plaintively. “Don’t argue. It doesn’t matter now.”

The door to the clubroom creaks, and Tanaka and Nishinoya come in.

“Hey,” says Tanaka as he sits down. “Did you hear about the second science laboratory? Someone said they saw a boy with no feet in there.”

“Wow, really?” Nishinoya throws himself down beside him. “We should check it out!”

Tanaka nods. “We should! After practice! The first years’ll come too, right?”

“Yeah!” crows Hinata, elbowing Kageyama.

“Whatever,” says Kageyama.” 

“Absolutely not,” says Tsukishima.

In the end, though, they go. 

END


End file.
